


call it a spade

by scheherazade



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, telepathic wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15146249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/pseuds/scheherazade
Summary: Hermanita licks the male wolf's face, and David is nearly floored by the flood of happiness that pours through their mental link.[Fusion AU: modern footballers are bonded to telepathic wolves.]





	call it a spade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acchikocchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi/gifts).



> extremely loosely based on the iskryne trilogy, and takes place during euro 2012 qualifying because i choose to live in the golden age when david silva still had hair.
> 
> for mer. i know this is just shit we chatficced together, but i hope it can make you smile today. ♥

_October 2011:_

Something bumps into the back of his knee. Or, more accurately, noses into it.

"Morning, Pieta," David says. "Is Cesc looking for me, or did you need me to go wake him up again?"

Pieta whuffs a sound like a laugh. When David looks down, Cesc's wolfsister is giving him what looks suspiciously like a grin. If wolves could grin, that is. It would be easier to tell what Pieta is actually thinking if his own wolfsister were around, but Hermanita has disappeared somewhere. 

If David concentrates, he can sense her sense of _dew on grass_ and _cold morning air_ and _male wolf, male wolf_. Hopefully, she's not giving Chori a hard time again. Just because Hermanita likes early mornings doesn't mean the other wolves—and their human brothers—appreciate being woken up at the crack of dawn by her insistent _now, now, play, now_. 

Though, after all these years, they're probably used to it. 

Just like he's used enough to Pieta coming to find him to know that he should follow. She turns gracefully and leads him back to the elevators, where she braces her front paws against the wall to nose at the down button.

There was a time when she would have had to jump to reach that high. Pieta isn't the smallest wolf David has ever seen, but she's definitely the smallest one on the national team. Even Hermanita is bigger than her—by just a hair—and Cesc got into more than a couple scrapes when he was younger, defending Pieta from people and wolves who thought she'd be an easy target.

Funny how some stereotypes just refuse to be broken. Thousands of years since direwolves actually had to go into battle—where things like size and speed actually mattered—and still people look sideways at any player bonded to a wolf that's less than the legendary ideal.

There's a reason bitches rarely throw alpha pups these days. Nobody actually _wants_ a football team to become a true pack, not when transfer season is already as messy as it is. Modern direwolves need to be able to integrate into whatever team they end up with, and for that, intelligence and pack sense matter far more than brute strength.

Not that you'll ever be able to convince Marca or the Daily Mail.

David shakes his head to himself as he follows Pieta into the elevator. But before she can press a button for a floor, a voice from the corridor calls out, 

"Hey, hold that for a sec, would ya?"

David presses the hold button. A second later, Ramos piles into the elevator with his wolfbrother in tow. Ramos grins a hello at David, and Pieta preemptively snaps her jaws at Gitano before the other wolf can even try to wash her face in greeting.

Ramos laughs. "Cut him some slack, Doughnut. He just nearly got his head bitten off by Eowyn. Though, that was your own fault," Ramos says to Gitano, whose ears are literally drooping, "Nando warned you she wasn't in a good mood."

"Doughnut?" David asks, not even bothering to inquire after what's got Torres and his bipolar wolfsister in a mood now. Everything and nothing, probably.

Ramos gives David a curious look. "Yeah, that's what they're calling her now. You didn't hear?"

Obviously not. "Who's they?"

Pieta makes a low growling sound. She noses the button for the ground floor.

"Well, it's not official or anything." Ramos drops his voice like they're gossipping. It's possible they are gossipping. "See, Pique told me Cesc never changed her official registration when he went to Arsenal, so the name on her papers is still Nuria d'Estiu. But apparently she won't answer to it anymore."

"Small wonder," David says drily, "considering she left La Masia when she was, what, six months old?"

"Yeah, but she's got Barca blood." Ramos says it like it means something. "And now that Cesc's back, they're not about to go around calling her by her Arsenal name." He snaps his fingers, as if a thought just occurred to him. "I mean, how'd you feel if people at Man City started calling Hermanita like, whatever English name they wanted?"

"They won't," David retorts, because seriously? This territorial bullshit needs to stop following him around. He doesn't even play in their damn league anymore. "They won't, because they know she doesn't answer to it. Just like Pieta doesn't answer to Nuria, because it's not her name."

Gitano looks between him and Ramos, then flattens himself a little closer to his brother's side. Next to David, Pieta primly flicks one ear. 

"I'm just giving you a heads up," Ramos says, after what looks like a short telepathic conference with his wolfbrother. Gitano is better at picking up signals than Ramos is. "Pique and Xavi and the lot of 'em, they're calling her Doughnut now. And Cesc, too."

The elevator reaches the ground floor. 

"Why Doughnut?" David asks as the doors open and Gitano scampers out of there like his tail is on fire.

Ramos pauses in following after his wolf and gives David a funny look. "Because of her scent name," he says. "Duh."

And before David can string together an appropriately incredulous reaction at being duh'ed by _Sergio Ramos_ , of all people, Pieta busily shepherds him out of the elevator and towards the hotel lobby.

David tries to remember what Pieta's scent name is—it's been a while since their last qualifier—and it takes him more than a couple seconds without Hermanita there to remind him. What's second nature to a wolf can be a bit of a memory game for humans.

 _Fresh-baked bread and sun-warmed tile_ , a familiar mind voice supplies.

David looks up, though he already knows where she is because she knows where he is, and then he's assaulted by a barrage of mental impressions— _waiting for car_ and _sun coming up_ and _cold morning air, coal dust, sweat_ —and that's when he finally realizes that his wolfsister isn't alone.

Pieta trots through the sliding glass doors to nudge at Cesc's hand, neatly interrupting his conversation with someone who turns to look at Pieta, then turns further to look over his shoulder.

Villa grins at him. "Hey, Silva."

Down by the car, a valet is manfully trying to unload Villa's luggage while avoiding two grown wolves playing some ridiculous game of hide and seek among the bags. Hermanita bounds over a suitcase to headbutt Guaje, who dutifully rolls over as if he's been wounded. Hermanita licks the male wolf's face, and David is nearly floored by the flood of happiness that pours through their mental link.

He tears his eyes away from the wolves and returns Villa's smile. "Hey. You just got in?"

"Yeah." Villa's grin disappears into a scowl. "Fucking Iberia flight got delayed four times. I would've gotten here faster on a goddamn bicycle."

"Don't think Guaje would fit in a bicycle basket," David points out. 

Cesc laughs. "You should've just come with me and Pi—Doughnut. I mean, I did warn you about the weather this weekend."

Villa gives Cesc a sideways glance. It's nearly identical to the look Pieta is giving her brother.

"You're really gonna call her that stupid name Pique came up with?" Villa asks. 

Cesc visibly bristles. "It's not stupid. It's a translation of her scent name, which—"

"Isn't doughnut," David points out. "Fresh bread and old tile floors?"

"Don't think she'll answer to _homesickness_ , either," Villa says. 

Cesc is starting to turn an interesting shade of pink. "Pieta was never her name to begin with," he says doggedly. "That's just the use name Ars—the club gave her. It's an honorary thing. She's not _actually_ descended from one of the old Highbury wolves."

"She answers to her Latin name, Cesc." David tries for gentle, because to some people logic is as painful as a studs-up tackle.

Villa grunts his agreement. "She might as well be named Victoria or Concordia or Crustacean."

" _Crescentia_ ," Cesc snaps.

"It's all Greek to me," Villa says, and David has to bite his tongue to stifle a laugh. 

"It's _Latin_ —you know what, screw you. You had no problem with this a week ago, and now you're just messing with me because you've got Silva to back you up." Cesc gives David an accusing look. "Stop ganging up on me."

"I would never," David says, at the same time Villa snorts, "A spade's a spade, Fabregas. Some things you just can't outrun."

"Oh look who's finally arrived!" says a gleeful voice.

David turns his head just in time to see a tawny blur practically bowl Villa over.

"What—Pau, no! I—mmmgh, okay, yes, very nice to see you, too! Goddammit, Pepe, control your wolf!"

Pepe just laughs as his wolfbrother stabilizes himself by planting both forelegs on Villa's shoulders, before snuffling his hair and ears and nose. Villa's resting scowl melts into something like resignation. 

The latest commotion finally distracts Guaje and Hermanita from their game. They amble over, and Guaje accepts an ear scratch from Pepe, but otherwise makes no move to rescue his brother from Pau's ministrations. Hermanita sits down next to David, tongue lolling in a silent laugh.

 _Long journey,_ she says, and it takes David a second to realize she's relaying Pau's thoughts. _Human cub is tired._

It takes him another second to realize she's broadcast that to the entire group, as Cesc makes a choked sound into his fist, and Villa's scowl returns full force. 

"For the last time," Villa snaps at a wolf that's at least as big as he is, "I am not one of your cubs!"

 _Human cub is grumpy,_ Pau notes serenely, and starts to wash Villa's face.

"I think he's clean enough, Pau," Pepe says. "You can always dunk him in the pool later."

"For fuck's sake, would you _stop_ enabling him—"

"Anyway," Pepe says brightly, as if he can't even hear Villa, "have you all had breakfast? I think I saw doughnuts when I passed the dining room. Though I guess Cesc can't have any."

Cesc, already turning to head in for food, pauses. "What? Why not?"

"Well..." Pepe raises one eyebrow. "You wouldn't want to cannibalize your wolfsister, would you? I mean, seeing as that's now her name and everything. Sergio told me."

Several expressions flash across Cesc's face—disbelief, suspicion, and possibly genuine horror—before he manages to splutter, "That's not her _actual_ name—"

Villa says, "He finally admits it."

—and Cesc realizes he's been baited right into it. David pats him on the shoulder as Pepe saunters back inside, laughing long and hard. Pau starts to bound after him, before doubling back to shepherd Villa into following as well.

Hermanita cocks her head. _Food?_

 _Food,_ David agrees.

 _Then more playing,_ she decides happily. _Then nap._ Along with that statement comes a vivid mental image of her curled up with Guaje— _cold morning air, coal dust, sweat_ —and David curled up with…

He nearly chokes on his own spit. _No,_ David projects as stern a mental voice as he can. _That's not—no._

 _Why?_ Hermanita ambles toward the sliding doors after Guaje. _Pau's human cub likes you. Pieta says so._

David looks sharply at Pieta, who's in the middle of urging Cesc back inside for breakfast. Pieta gives him a glance—and if he didn't know better, David could've sworn that the wolf was grinning at him. 

_Is that why she dragged me out here?_ David asks suspiciously.

Pieta's tongue lolls in an obvious laugh. 

_You need a mate,_ Hermanita says instead of answering, and David's suspicions disappear under a flush of embarrassment. Especially when he looks up and realizes that Cesc is also listening in on this conversation. But instead of looking horrified, Cesc looks—speculative. Which. 

_Pieta is a friend,_ Hermanita says. _Pieta helps._

"She's a busybody matchmaker, is what she is," David mutters under his breath. To Cesc, he adds, "And so are you. Knock it off."

"I didn't do anything," Cesc says reflexively. "That was all Pieta."

A pause.

"Doughnut," Cesc amends. He sounds more tired than anything.

David snorts. "Call her whatever you want, Cesc. She's your sister." He glances at Pieta. "But if I catch her nosing into my business again, I'm gonna have Hermanita tell Eowyn that she tastes like her name, and I won't be responsible for whatever happens next."

"You wouldn't." Cesc actually looks aghast. Then he looks suspicious, "Anyway, just because Torres likes doughnuts doesn't mean Eowyn also does."

"Like brother, like wolf," David says, quoting age old wisdom. 

Cesc glowers at him. Then, for some reason, he grins. "Well, that's true."

He heads back inside. David follows him. "What's so funny?" 

"Nothing." It's obviously not nothing. Cesc is still grinning to himself, and David knows if he just waits a couple seconds, it'll all come out because Cesc has never been able to keep a lid on anything, and sure enough— "I'm just saying, Hermanita's _really_ into Guaje. She was practically humping him before you got here."

David stops to stare after Hermanita, who's already run ahead and is busily scanning the dining room for—

"Like brother," Cesc quips, "like wolf."

"Then _you're_ a doughnut," David shoots back, which is completely lame. So completely lame. But what hope is there, when he's been thoroughly betrayed by his own wolfsister's total lack of chill?

Cesc just laughs and heads into the dining room.

 _Food,_ comes Hermanita's mind voice, insistent and anticipatory. _Food, play, nap. Hurry._

The things he does for her, David thinks not for the first time as he steps into the noisy dining room where people are converging for breakfast, and even amidst the din and the smell of eggs and toast and coffee, it's right there, clear as day: _cold morning air, coal dust, sweat._

He breathes deep, and follows Hermanita through the crowd.


End file.
